A Confederacy of Dunces by John Kennedy Toole

This book is going on the list of books I do not intend to finish. Granted, I received it for free from the book club I attend at my school, so there’s no financial guilt attached. But at the moment, I am not at all interested in continuing A Confederacy of Dunces by John Kennedy Toole.

Now don’t get me wrong, it’s a well written book, but it’s just not my style. It’s a comic farce that probably has some deeper meaning about fat egotists, but at the surface it’s a maddening swirl of flat characters who affect the life of a certified asshole.

I have yet to figure out what the bird is.

I know the saying goes that if there’s something you really hate about a person, it’s probably what you hate the most about yourself. Let’s not forget the part where you work on what you hate in yourself, and you don’t have to forgive the other person for not addressing their own personal quirk.

Well, let’s just say that’s completely true for the seven chapters I dragged myself through, solely for the sake of earning the paper.

This book essentially revolves around Ignatius J Reilly, a well educated, but arguably immature fatso, and his various exploits around New Orleans. The characters he comes into contact with almost seem to be a vessel for a single trait, or simply an actor in the great Ignatius play.

War of the Worlds by H. G. Wells

Written in 1898, War of the Worlds is said to be the first book detailing a  fictional contact between humans and aliens. It is narrated by a nameless journalist in Woking, with an insert of his brother’s experience as he flees England.

If you’ve seen the movie, it’s actually pretty close to the book, except the massive amount of difference in late 19th century British culture and late 20th century American culture.

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